


The Common Cold

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Apologies, Cold Weather, Desperation, Exhaustion, Hesitation, Huddling For Warmth, Late at Night, Loneliness, Overworking, Platonic Cuddling, Surprises, WebMD, Winter, surrender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Dr. Iplier runs cold far too easily. Combine that with a broken heater, thin blankets and sleep deprivation and what do you get? Desperate measures.





	The Common Cold

The only reason Edward wasn’t dead on his feet was because of the cold, he decided as he drove home at long last, stiff fingers clamped tight around the steering wheel. His nerves were tingling, almost painfully so; if he didn’t pay attention, shaking them and forcing them to bend every so often, he would probably lose all feeling in them. His body ran chilly far too easily; even on periodic days in the summer, the others would find him in a lightweight jacket. Harsh weather like this was murder.

His half-frozen state was his own fault, he supposed, stopping at a red light and despairingly scrubbing a hand down his face. Icy skin sparked against _icier_ skin and it only made him shiver harder. If he’d thought to watch the Jims’ weather report and had found out just how cold it was going to be, he would have brought something more than his lab coat for warmth—and wasn’t it just his misfortune that the heater in his office broke down, today of all days?

The heater in his car was helping him survive until he got home, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable. Whatever areas of his body it managed to thaw simply ached with fatigue, pointedly reminding him just how endless the ins and outs of his shift had felt. His eyes burned against the colors of the streetlights and the asphalt was swerving and swaying a split second before the turns actually loomed. Anyone else in this state of exhaustion probably shouldn’t be driving, but there was no way he would fall asleep in this cold. All he could do was shiver and fidget, keeping his gaze pinned on the street ahead of him and counting down the miles until he reached Egos Central.

The lights in the house were off by the time he pulled into the lot. It wasn’t unexpected, but he couldn’t help the small pang of isolation that went off in his stomach as he stumbled inside and received no greeting. The only noise breaking the silence of the sleeping household was his keys, jangling violently in shaky, uncooperative hands. After a split second of struggling, they slipped and hit the floorboards with a strident smack and he paused, peering into the darkness to be sure no one was on the couch to be woken by it. Sometimes the King of the Squirrels would sneak in for more comfort on wintry nights and Edward could attest that this was _certainly_ one of them.

No one. The King was probably out there with all of his “subjects” to keep him warm, nestled close against him in the toasty depths of a thick fur cloak. Another painful tremor crawled through him then by comparison and he hugged himself against it, leaving the keys where they had fallen. His back was a knotted mess; he wasn’t about to bend down for them.

The microwave clock glaring back at him stung his tired eyes, forcing him to rub at them once more. Ever so briefly the idea of hot coffee drifted into his mind, but if he tried to thaw out that way, he’d _never_ find sleep. The room blurred and refocused as he pushed himself away from the island, shuffling on leaden feet toward the hall.

His lab was at the far end—the far, _far_ end. The longer he stared at the closed door waiting expectantly on the other side, the longer the hallway stretched between them. Shoulders slumping in wordless agony, he lowered his eyes to his shoes instead before letting them close.

Once he made it there, his epic journey wouldn’t be finished. Somehow he would need to drag himself all the way across the lab without sparing a single glance at any of the heaps of paperwork waiting—practically impossible in and of itself—and get to the side room that held his cot. He would need to shuck off his work clothes, exposing his frozen body to the air for the breathless minute of suffering that it would take to change into pajamas. From there he would need to collapse and curl into a tiny, shivering ball on the creaky old cot with the worn, thin blankets and the misshapen pillow that aggravated _every single twinge_ in his neck—

 _I can’t do it. I can’t do it! Can’t do it_. Shaking his head in surrender, he spun on his heel, fully intent on returning to the couch, but his weary body wasn’t prepared for the motion. Faltering, he swayed too far to the left and was forced to throw a hand against the nearest door, awkwardly shuffling to compensate as it popped open. It was only when he regained his balance and looked up that he realized whose room it was.

Flat-screen computers were mounted one after the other on the walls, all turned off. No closet, no carpet, no dresser, no pictures—no decorations or furniture of any kind except for the nightstand and the bed. His eyes fell to its occupant. Somehow Google hadn’t come around at the creak of the door; he was half-propped by his pillows, still as a stone, systems purring softly as his core shimmered, recharging.

For almost a full minute, Edward simply stared, his attention taken up by one wistful thought: Google’s core had to make him the closest heat source.

It was followed by another: there was room in the bed.

 _Oh, he’d kill me_.

Still…death by Google would probably be better than death by cold.

The mattress was already much warmer than his cot ever was, he discovered, sinking into it with a sigh of cautious relief. He could feel some of the milder aches seeping out of him; it was like lying on a hot pad, but it wasn’t everything he needed—or wanted. Swallowing, he glanced up, closely watching his friend’s still, blank features as he cautiously rested a cold hand against his chest. No reaction, but the warmth was _incredible_. As his hand warmed, he became aware of just how cold the rest of his arm was in comparison. Just like that, inhibitions disappeared and he took a steeling breath, squirming over and plastering himself against the android’s side in one motion.

“Hh—!” Google lurched then, his purring interrupted by a sharp chitter of gears as he startled awake. His core flared, brightening defensively, but Edward tightened his grip around him before he could sit up, interrupting his half-formed growl.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just me.” Google only unwound an inch or two at the sound of his voice, glancing down in wary bewilderment, and Edward sighed dejectedly, lowering his head to the other’s chest and his words to a mumble. “Kick me out if you want, but…s’cold.”

He half-expected Google to pry him off then and there, but he didn’t. He kept waiting. It didn’t come. After another minute, he relaxed enough to release the tight grip he had on Google’s shirt. A minute after that, his eyes closed.

Google forced himself to remain still in Edward’s hold, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. In the end he decided to tuck his questions away until the morning, delicately shifting to adjust the sheets over the doctor’s shoulder before gradually shutting back down.


End file.
